The Princess in Disguise
by shrouded-in-mystery
Summary: Retelling of the Grimm's fairy tale. She was once Aella, the most beautiful princess in the world. Now, she is Roughskin, the dirty kitchen maid with an exotic mantle and a knack for fighting with the King, whose arrogance matches her own. Ch. 11 up!
1. Prolouge

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Author's Note: I guess it is fair to say I don't own the Grimm's Fairy Tale "The Princess in Disguise", though I'm not sure if any one does. This is a retelling of a less known Grimm's story. If you have never read a real Grimm's Fairy Tale, then I warn you, it is nothing like the fluffy, cheery ones Disney makes (which are based mostly on Charles Pernault's versions anyways.). They are much darker and sometimes gorier. This is also not my first fanfic; I used to have a different account. Just wanted to clear all that up. Enjoy!

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**Prolouge**

King Radovan was a cunning and resourceful man who knew just how to earn his heart's truest desires. Through this, he was able to catch the eye of a beautiful woman, a Lady known as Aeronwy. Her family was one filled with corruption and scandal, so that it was nearly impossible for Radovan to marry her, under normal circumstances. Not even her title could help her.

Aeronwy was beautiful, though. Soft, pale skin with dark pools of midnight blue for eyes, curves in all the right places and high, prominent cheek-bones. Her most noticable feature, though, was her long hair that shone like gold. She was proud of it, brushing it with a thousand strokes every night and morning, so it would always flow like silk upon her back. She was a scheming woman too, who captured Radovan with her crafty ways.

Together, the two were able to convince the Royal Counselors to submit to the marriage, however scandalous it might be. The Counselors relented, and within a year, they were married. Several months after that, the new Queen Aeronwy announced that she was pregnant with the first royal heir.

It turned out to be a stillborn.

The next child would fare better. Three years after the marriage, she delivered a healthy girl, though the process weakened her greatly. They named the daughter, Aella.

Through the many years to follow the birth, Aeronwy grew weak and sickly. When Aella was but fourteen, the Queen was told to be dying. Already, great mourning pulsed through the kingdom. Aella was beside herself with grief, and Radovan constantly waited by his wife's side. Even to the end, he would be her faithful servant.

She was entranced in a deep slumber most of the time, but one fateful night, she awoke suddenly, grasping her husband's wrist so tightly that his hand turned white. Her eyes fluttered open, her deep red lips parted to say,

"I know that once I die, you shall once more. Promise that you will not marry her, unless she is as beautiful and shares the same golden hair as I."

"Excuse me?" Radovan asked, trying to yank his hand free. Her grip only tightened.

"Promise me." She demanded, her voice dry and raspy. Radovan sighed and gave her his word. Her hand fell free, and Aeronwy breathed her last.

Radovan did not bother at first to find a new spouse, but the Royal Counselors insisted upon it. Radovan had Aella to marry off and make an aliance with another kingdom, but he needed a son to carry on the crown. At first, Radovan would hear nothing of it, but slowly, he gave way. He began a search of the kingdom for all of the fair ladies to find one that matched his wife.

For the next four years, his search turned up no results. Even if there was a woman whose beauty matched Aeronwy's, she never had the same golden locks as his late wife. The Royal Counselors tried to sway him towards a noble woman. Aeronwy was dead; she could never care if he broke his promise. But the King stuck fast to it.

Aella, meanwhile, grew to look like her mother in everyway. On her eighteenth birthday, Radovan began to take notice of it.

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Author's Note: Bad prolouge, but the next chapter is better. Promise.  



	2. The Marriage Proposal

**Chapter One: The Marriage Proposal**

"Princess Aella, whatever are you doing in bed at this hour!" Madame Fonseca exclaimed with mock horror. Aella groaned into her pillow; the worst thing to wake up to in the morning was the shrill voice of Madame Fonseca, especially if you had been dancing through the entirety of the previous night. She snuggled deeper into the warm velvet and silk of her sheets, but they were soon yanked away from her, leaving her body cold and exposed, for she was only dressed in her thin nightshift.

"Princess, you must rise at once," Madame Fonseca scolded her. "Lord Alfonso from the Westmire Reaches is coming today and wishes an audience with you." Aella yawned and sat up, stretching her stiff limbs. Her bare feet touched the frozen stone floor, and she shuddered as her Governess wrapped a fur-lined morning robe around her. The dressing maids were summoned, and they immediately set to work strapping on her corset, tying the laces on her lavender dress.

"Really Madame, I don't see the point in it." She gave a loving sigh. "Prince Raphael and I are happily in love and informally engaged. Everyone knows it. Why do I still get suitors then?" The dressing maids sat her in front of a vanity as they combed through her golden hair. Madame Fonseca stood prim and proper behind her, supervising the event.

"Because no official announcement has been made yet, and you are the most sought after woman in the seven kingdoms," She said as twists of hair were weaved into an elegant bun. "Men can always hope. Besides, Lord Alfonso is a handsome and agreeable to speak with. Your meeting shall not be terribly dull."

"Humph! Prince Raphael is heir to the most powerful of the seven kingdoms," Aella sniffed. "Tis only right for the most dashing man to marry the fairest maiden, which is I of course. Father is delighted by the potential union. Soon I shall be Queen Aella of Trosham." She smiled coyly at the thought. "What else does girl need?"

"At least that pretty head of his has some brains," Madame Fonseca added. "Brilliant in all his studies."

"And rich!" Aella exclaimed with a laugh. "Have you seen the Palace of O'dere? Simply marvelous." Her peals of laughter filled the room. "What a lucky girl am I!" Madame Fonseca gave a rare smile as Aella bounded from her seat and out of the room in remarkably better spirits than she began with. Perhaps it was only infatuation that kept her heart set on Prince Raphael, but at least it made her happy.

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"Princess Aella, tis an honor to see on this fair day," Lord Alfonso leaned over to kiss her hand, glancing up slightly with his black eyes at her comely face. Aella showed him a tight smile, filled with the dignity and grace that every woman should posess. True, Lord Alfonso was a captivating man in both appearance and intelect, with his dark looks and eloquent words. 

"As you, Lordship." Westmire Reaches was ruled by three Lords in three different provinces. Lord Alfonso was the most powerful of the three, and it was a well known fact that he was scheming to overthrow the other two. He straightened and offered the Princess his arm, and she took delicately. They strolled out to the gardens of the Castle of Nutre, walking in silence until the warm sunlight met their faces.

"I musn't stay out long," Aella told him. "My skin burns too easily and I shan't look like a lobster."

"Of course not!" Lord Alfonso exclaimed. He led her to the shade of an oak tree and sat with her down on a marble bench. "Tell Princess, how fare you since we last met?"

"I only suffer from the dull days that meet girls between their playful childhood days and the joyous event of their marriage," Aella responded, giving him the answer that she told every suitor. He seemed satisfied by it.

"Of course," He said lightly.

"Tell me, Lordship, what news do you bear from Westmire?" Aella asked, changing the topic. He grinned.

"Soon the Festival of the Lunashine will occur. Have you ever heard of it, Princess?" Aella shook her head no, even though she had. "It is marvelous and beautiful. For a fortnight, there is dancing and drinking and celebrating for all the people of Westmire. Throughout the three Provinces, no one has a frown set upon their faces." He launched into the story of the mythical Fairy, Lunashine, who graced and blessed the country, a tale Aella knew quite well. Her thoughts drifted off as he spoke, thinking of other things, namely her Raphael.

"You know, t'would wonderful to marry in the Festival of Lunashine," His cool voice slithered into her ear. The words brought her back into reality, and her blood froze.

"What are you saying Lordship?" She squeaked as she tried to keep calm. This was the first direct proprosal she had, save for Raphael, and it scared her to think she'd have to reject it. A lady never rejected any offers from a gentleman, and she did not want to think of being unladylike.

"I know my proposal is sudden, but I feel that after your father had canceled any hopes between you and Prince Raphael, your broken heart could be pieced back together by a romantic wedding during the Festival."

"Whatever do you mean my father 'canceled any hopes'!" Aella exclaimed angrily. She leapt from her seat, all signs of her graceful poise diminished in a fleeting second. "How dare you say such a-a lie!" Her voice spat at him.

"But it is only what I have been told," Lord Alfonso defended himself. "I thought it to be farce as well, but Counselor Cahal confirmed it to be true."

"Liar!" She screeched. "Insolent liar!" She clutched her skirts and ran off from him back into the cool interior of the castle. She searched out for the head of the Royal Counselors, Cahal, himself. She found him in his private study by the library and burst into it unceremoniously and with a passionate fury.

"Princess?" He looked up with mild surprise at the fuming royalty.

"You told Lord Alfonso that Father forbid a marriage between Prince Raphael and me?" She demanded to know. She stomped one dainty foot on the floor, and a tiny clang from her heel emitted.

"Lord Alfonso simply heard rumors probably spread by eavesdropping servants," Cahal told her. "He simply came to me seeking the truth."

"And you confirmed the rumors to be fact," Aella accused him. "When my father hears of this, he will cast you out faster than-"

"They were true," Cahal said with little emotion in his voice. "You were to speak with King Radovan this evening." Aella was speechless. She gaped at Cahal in disbelief.

"How...why would he do such a thing?" She cried out incredulously. "Prince Raphael the worthiest of all suitors. And he thinks someone such as Lord Alfonso is a better match for me?"

"No, the King has other plans." He tried to wave off Aella with a single hand, but she stayed firmly in place.

"What are they?" She waggled her finger at him. "Tell me or else."

"I can't. You will hear the purposes behind his decision later."

"Tell. Me. Now." Aella said through clenched teeth. "Or, Counselor, I will tell your wife about your Mistress, and her father will feel more obliged to leave his estate to her brother." She had him in her grasp and relaxed, satisfied with the results as the blood drained out of Cahal's face. He was still for a moment before speaking.

"We tried to persuade it was wrong and that it would never bode well with the people of the kingdom, or others or that matter, but your father demanded that it be made possible."

"What are you talking about?"

"You see, Princess Aella, your father wishes to marry you."

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Author's Note: Please Review! No flames please but I can handle constructive crit. Adios' for now!  



	3. The Deal

**Chapter Two: The Deal**

"I shan't do it," Aella sobbed into her velvet pillow on her bed. "Marrying my father is improper, immoral, impure...and anything else with 'im', it's that too. Oh, Madame, I shan't marry him." Madame Fonseca sat next to her, rubbing her back soothingly.

"Princess, you have little choice," She told Aella. "It is the same as if your father arranged a marriage with some ogre; no matter what you wish to do, you would still have to comply with his wishes. He has been indulging you for your entire life; it is time for you to give something back."

"Oh, it is hopeless," Aella wailed. "He is not even the handsome man he once was, with those rhuemy eyes and fat cheeks. My match with Raphael could do so much more for our tiny little dump."

"At least you will be Queen Aella, even if it is over Wailon." This statement only intenisified her tears.

"I shan't do it!" Aella continued to chant. There was a sharp rap at the door, and Madame Fonseca stood to open it. One of Radovan's gophers stood there, tall and straight.

"King Radovan of Wailon wishes an audience with his daughter, the Princess Aella, immediately," The man announced. He bowed and turned to leave, but he was stopped as the princess threw the pillow at him. It hit him on the side of his head and fell to the floor harmlessly.

"Tell him I refuse to see him and give no consent to his intentions," She screamed at him.

"I'm afraid, Princess, that the King made it very clear that was not an option." The messanger disapeared just before another pillow came flying.

"Come now dear," Madame Fonseca coaxed her out of the bed. "The King demands you see him. Now, let's hurry and clean you up. He wouldn't want to see his daughter being such a mess, now would he?" Aella stood, but instead of approaching her vanity, she stormed out of the room. She headed straight for the throne room and entered it without being announced. Radovan looked up at her and smiled.

"My precious daughter, why do tears marr your delicate face?" He said.

"Oh, be quiet," She snapped at him. His affectionate expression turned into one of fury.

"Excuse me?" He asked, rising from the throne. His face turned dangerously red.

"Counselor Cahal made it quite clear what you expect of me, and I refuse to give consent to your intentions," She told him defiantly. Radovan was boiling over with rage. "I will not marry you."

"You insolent brat," He seethed. "You have no choice in the matter, and you will marry me."

"I will not!" Aella's voice rang out. She wiped her eyes clean of tears and attempted to stand with pride, but her stance sagged. "How could you even think of such a thing?"

"I made a promise to your mother, and the only way I can satisfy it, with the happiness of myself involved, is to marry you," He said.

"What about the happiness of myself?"

"That does not matter!" Radovan exploded. "You are not King, though you will be Queen, and that will be the final verdict on the matter. I do not need your consent, nor would it matter if I did. You have no power here. Mark my words, dear daughter, you have been spoiled long enough."

"There are many who love me, and if they hear you are forcing me into a marriage that I not only disagree to but is impure, then there are many princes that will rush to my aid. Many countries that can and will declare war. The people love me as well, the beautiful princess, and it shall be an outrage to the virtuous common folk that such a wrongful practice is going to be enforced, and they will no longer support you. You can oppress them further, but their restlessness will grow and they shall revolt." Aella finished with her point. "You need my consent."

"Oh, I need my daughter's consent for an arranged marraige. And how will I get it?" Radovan mocked her, though he agreed she had a point. "Let me guess, I won't." An idea popped into Aella's head.

"You can, if you comply with my wishes," She told him. Radovan waved his hand for her to continue. "First, I want a dress that is as golden as the sun. Second, I want a dress as silvery as the moon. Third, I want a dress that glitters like the stars on the night sky. And last, I want a mantle, sewn from the furs of every animal in the kingdom, from the sewer rat to the proud mare." Aella was quite sure she had asked the impossible. A smug grin was on her face.

"Hmm," Radovan thought it over. His daughter was trying to outsmart him, but he would win in the end. "Fine, we have a deal."

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A month later, Aella was summoned to her father's side again. Feeling quite confident that her father could not fulfil her order and that he would surrender, she strolled into the throne room with a gleeful expression in her eyes. The sight that beheld her froze her in her tracks, and the smirk fell from her face. Three dresses-one as golden as the sun, another as silvery as the moon, the third as glittery as the night sky- were displayed on mannequins, and a servant held up an exotic mantle sewn from hundreds of furs. 

"I have your consent, Aella," Radovan announced haughtily. "Take your new clothes and start preparing for the wedding. We shall be married in two months time, dear fiancee'."

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Author's Note: Good? Please review. It's quick, simple and makes people really happy. Responses to reviews: 

**Ardelis Mercy: ** Thanks for the review! Yeah, the marrying his daughter thing is kind of gross, but it certainly makes the story more interesting.

**chicken dumpling soup:** Thank you. I know it could be kind of predictable, but I was not working for suspense here. That will come later.

**mistyqueen:**Like I said, I agree that it is gross, but I am trying to keep the story faithful to the original, and in the original, the nameless heroine was engaged to her father. Don't worry; there shall be no incest in this story. Thanks for the review!


	4. A simple enchantment

**Chapter Three: A simple Enchantment **

Aella was to be married in a week, and there was nothing she could do about it. This kind of union was forbidden by law, but King Radovan had power over what was lawful and what was illegal. He had been treating her as a lover might to his fair damsel, no longer mentioning the fact that she was his daughter. At least he granted any and all requests she had for him, and Aella had taken advantage of the oppurtunity.

Now, a parasol, held by a servant, sheltered her from the blistering sun that would damage her pretty skin as she strolled through the Market place of Ceretere. Ceretere was the capitial city of Wailon, and the bright colors of the Central Bazaar always caught Aella's fancy. She had never had the chance to walk through it before, but she had asked her fath-her fiance for the fresh air. She was surrounded by several guards, a few servants to carry and purchase whatever pretty ornament would catch her eye, and Madame Fonseca gave her opinion on the trinkets merchants were selling.

Madame Fonseca no longer carried the title of Governess, since Aella was to be married so soon and would be a woman. She was now declared the Head of Queen's Court. The job was the same; she advised Aella and assisted with trifling matters, but the name carried much more signifigance and prominence in it.

"Lavender or evergreen?" Aella asked Madame Fonseca, holding two scarfs up to her shoulders. The elder woman sighed.

"Such crude things," She said haughtily. Aella glared at her. "Evergreen is too harsh for your delicate features. Lavender is my preference." Aella dropped the green scarf to the ground, and a servant hurried forward with the royal purse to pay. "Princess, don't you believe you are spending money a little too lavishly?"

"Humph! The more I spend, the less that lies in the royal treasury," Aella reasoned. "And if Father goes broke the better. Shows him right for marrying me. Besides, I am enjoying my last bit of freedom."

"You're cutting off your nose to spite your face," Madame Fonseca scolded. "You'd be broke as well and end up even more miserable."

"Madame, I insist that you desist those rude comments at once," Aella snapped sharply. "I shall do as I please, and you have no right to say otherwise. No longer are you a caretaker but a servant, and you best remember that." Aella quickened her pace to leave Madame Fonseca behind in the dust. The woman did not bother to catch up, she just let herself drag behind with the real servants. If the Princess wanted her, she would have to face what she said, and Madame Fonseca knew how much Aella despised interacting with servants.

"They're dirty little mongrels born into nothing but one purpose, to obey me," She had once told her nurse. "I will not waste breath speaking them any more than I have to." As a result, Madame Fonseca often ended up ordering them around on behalf of the princess.

Meanwhile, a wrinkled old hag stopped the Princess on the street. Aella looked horrified as the tiny woman reached out and clutched her silken skirts with her bony, grimey hand. She yanked it free and glowered at the woman, who only gave her a toothless smile.

"'Ello milday," The woman crackled. "I'm a fortune teller. Care for a reading?"

"Get your filthy paws away from me," Aella chided her. "You have no right to do that."

"Sorry milady, but I's poor as them rats, I ain't got as much to eat," The hag excused herself. "Please get a reading. I might be able to help you."

"With what? Lightening up my purse, you thief?" She snarled.

"Nah, with your upcoming marriage." In a flash, her hand flew out and pulled Aella's by the wrist. She pryed open Aella's fingers, her sandpaper hand on the Princess's soft skin, and dropped something inside. She then closed the fingers. "Tis a simple enchantment. Fold them three dresses up tight in it," The Fortune Teller whispered. "Then ye can take them and run with them. Dress in the mantle, no shall recognize you."

"How much do you want for it?" Aella asked.

"Consider it a gift." The woman grinned again and hobbled off, soon disapearing into the crowd. Aella opened her hand to see what it was. A single walnut laid in her palm.

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When Aella returned to the Castle, she immediately fled to her room to study the walnut. It was ordinary looking enough, but Aella soon discovered that it opened and closed like a little box. She fetched her three dresses and attempted to fold them, but she had never folded anything in her life. She folded it as best she could, though she really scrunched it and balled it up. Miraculously, it became smaller and smaller until it was able to fit inside the walnut with plenty of room to spare. She tried it with the other two dresses, and they, too, fit perfectly in the walnut. 

With the three dresses hidden in the nut, Aella took out the mantle and tried it on. It fit nicely, but it made her look a savage. A pretty savage but a savage nevertheless. She knew she would have to disguise herself, but her golden locks were easy to idenity anywhere, and most commons had course, brown skin. She slipped the mantle off her shoulders and returned it to her closet.

Aella stood out on her balcony, letting the breeze ruffle her hair and play with the lace on her dress. Her eyes wandered to the potted plant sitting by the railing. Aella smiled and picked up a fist full of soil and let it sprinkle through her fingers. When it had all fallen through, her hand resembled that of a common's unwashed one. Another handful of dirt was rubbed on her face, and she ran to her vanity. She appeared as though she had just been embroiled in a fierce mud war.

There was a pounding at her door. Madame Fonseca's voice drifted through. Aella had locked the door, but she did not want her to become suspicious. In a panic, she washed off her face and hands and dried them before answering the door.

"I was taking a nap." Aella lied. Madame Fonseca seemed satisified with this answer, knowing how sound a sleeper Aella was. Accompaning the lady were two dressing maids, ready to prepare the Princess for her evening meal with the King.

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After her meal, which was spent in silence, Aella could not wait to hurry to her room to prepare for the night. She fidgeted while her maids dressed her for bed, unraveling her hair and brushing it. When Madame Fonseca asked why she was so restless, she claimed that she was tired and could not wait to sleep. It did not make much sense, but it was accepted all the same. 

Finally, the maids blew the candles out and retreated out of the princess's chambers. She laid there on the goosefeather mattress waiting for the moment to move once more. Aella did not even turn in her bed until the patter of servants outside her door ceased and the very air stilled. The chiming of the clock told it was time to strike. _1:00_

Aella tiptoed out of bed and attempted to light a candle herself. After a few struggles, a weak flame burst to life. It was held out in front of her as she approached her the plant. She dipped her hands into the dirt and rubbed it all over her skin. From her toes to her forehead, she was completely covered in dirt. She stared at her new look in her vanity mirror, and even in the darkness, her hair shone like a thousand suns.

With a grumble, Aella massaged the earth into her hair, making sure that particles stuck to every strand. Taking a torn handkerchef, she disguised in the same fashion and tied her hair up in it. Then she slipped the mantle over her shoulders.

She barely even recongized herself. Perfect.

Aella then took with her a small leather purse. In it was the walnut carrying the three dress plus a ring, a tiny spinning wheel and a hook, all made of gold. She had selected them from her jewelery case with great care.

As Aella creeped through the corridors of the Castle, she barely even realized that someone might catch her. It would have been all for naught as she made an eventful journey outside. She passed the snoozing guards with ease and escaped into the cool night air.

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Author's Note: Yay! New chapter! Review people because I like reviews. 

**Ardelis Mercy:** I hope this chapter satisfies you. More excitement will come in the next, I promise.

**Glitterpoison:** I think you might have it right but it could be a different tale. So many Grimm's tales (including Cinderella) have sun, moon and night dress, and there are several other themes that are common. You will see next chapter what will happen with the tree though...

**Rose Black**: Back in the time period this is kinda sorta based on, girls never thought of the wedding night. They were never taught about it, and they only had a vague idea about it. It was not as big a deal as it is now. Still, it is nice to meet another Grimm's fan, and I really appreciate your review. Now hurry up and do that retelling! I can't wait to see what it might be...

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	5. Roughskin

**Chapter Four: Roughskin**

**(A/N:** Yes, Glitterposion, this is a very exciting day for you. You now get to read about the tree! YAY! I have a feeling you will be a little disapointed though...)

The sun had begun to arise in the east, and streams of golden sunlight filtered though the canopy of trees. During the night, Aella had crossed the Wailon into what she believed to be Grosmit. Grosmit was a mid-sized country of considerable wealth, but the King was a recluse and the associations between other Kingdoms was shaky. The eastern boundary of it was a straight line of woods, though not the stereotypical dark, creepy kind. As the new day began, the shadows of the trees began to weaken and the underbrush started to thicken.

Aella was exhausted at the moment. She could barely lift her head, and every few seconds, her eyelids would flutter close before snapping open once more. Her stomach growled at the thought of no food; how stupid of her not to bring some vittles along. With a half-sigh, half-yawn, she collasped to the ground.

It was hard and uncomfortable. Sticks poked into her ribs and bugs inched over her skin. Light peeked in under her eyelids. She pushed herself up and scanned the area for an appropriate place for a princess to sleep. The first thing that attracted her attention was a large tree. It opened up with large hole in the trunk, and after peering in, Aella detrimined there was enough room for her to sleep in.

It was dark, and the damp moss was at least softer than the sod. It was a cramped fit, but Aella could hardly care as she drifted to sleep. She awoke hours later to the sharp barks of wild beasts outside the tree.

She gasped in fear as she recongized the snouts of vicious hunting dogs gnashing at her with their sharp teeth.

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"What are the dogs in such a fury over?" King Xavier of Grosmit asked his hunters from atop his mount. One shook his head. 

"No idea, your highness." He called out. Xavier wiped the sweat off his brow with a handkerchef, a gift from one of the ladies at court, before throwing it aside.

"Then you might want to find out," He commanded sternly. The hunter nodded and signaled to the other men to followed him as they trampled though the thick brush. Xavier watched them as they disapeared, glad to be free of their company. They were such nuisances. He would not have consented to go out hunting in the first, had not his brother Dacre insisted that breathe some fresh air. For weeks, Dacre had been on his case, mentioning his sickly form and pale color.

Xavier was a handsome man, but he could not compete with some of the other men his age in the Seven Kingdoms. Dark hair, wiry figure and a fair color that resulted from his seclusion most of the time. Many trembled under the glare of his austere brown eyes. And yet he was only twenty-three years old, having inherited the crown following the early death of his father.

"Your Highness," The excited shout of one of the men reached his ears. They burst into sight, the dogs and another strange character in tow. It seemed to an animal with an exotic coat of every color and pattern. Yet it walked on two feet, making it impossible for it to be any normal creature.

"Yes?" He asked mildly. Another one of the men prodded the strange thing forward, and when it looked up, Xavier realized it was a girl with beautiful, clear blue eyes. Other than that, she was disgusting, filthy and grimey. The furs were from her mantle, the only attractive thing on her.

"We found 'er in a tree over yonder," He pointed out. "Little Roughskin, we call 'er. Said she ain't have none parents nor family. Wants to work for the palace." She nodded quickly to show her agreement.

"Fine. We shall take her back with us, but we will be leaving immediately." Xavier told them. He turned on his steed and trotted off, the magnificent beast hardly tolled by the weeds and trees.

"Aw, but the day barely over," One of the men groaned. The dogs were still snarling at Aella; so, he had to call them off her. "I'm Damion." He held out a hand. Aella stared at it curiously, not sure what the gesture meant. "Not very social, are ya?" Aella gulped.

"Where I'm from, people curtsy and bow," She told him. He rolled his eyes.

"You'll do alot of that where you're going." Damion smirked. "C'mon. Can't keep your new liege waitin'. Plus I been hearing that the kitchen folk need some more workers; they gonna keep you busy."

"I'm going to be cooking?" Aella inquired.

"If ya know how. Some of them clean, some of them serve, but with the looks of you, I think they'll keep you in the back." He laughed, hardly caring for Aella's feelings. She humphed.

"What do you mean by that?" She asked scandalized.

"I mean you ain't no looker." Aella was used to having a man speak to her in such a brash way, and she definatly did not like having someone insult her looks. A sharp retort was about escape her lips when she remembered that she was disguised and indeed very hideous. She bit her tongue and gulped the remark back.

She traveled behind the group, unaccustomed to walking so far and so fast. Her feets began to hurt and blister in her small shoes, and her breath was becoming short and labored. She gasped as they left the woods, into broad daylight.

"How much longer?" She whined to Damion, who only snorted as a reply. Aella, though, would not take that as an answer. "You insolent fool. Answer me!"

"And why should I?" He challenged. "You ain't nothing but a scullery maid now, and I'm a King's Huntsman. Don't sound all high and mighty, cause I'm a noble compared to you." Her cheeks flushed with anger, but it was hidden beneath the layer of sweat and torrid red from the walk. She picked up her skirt and quickened her pace, nose set high in the air. She would show him.

Her foot caught on a snag, and she tripped, causing Damion and a few others to explode with laughter.

"Who the fool now, Roughskin?"

* * *

"Do you know how to roast a turkey, with the proper garnishes and stuffing?" 

"No."

"Can you bake a cake out of only the finest white flour and create colored icings to decorate it?"

"No."

"Can you make Roscken Stew?"

"No."

"Can you cook anything?" The head cook was quite annoyed with his new employee. She was a pathetic looking girl they called Roughskin. Though filthy and weathered, her hands were soft and uncalloused, and she was very stupid. Fritz was definantly not pleased with her.

"Um, no."

"Then why are you here?" He asked her, trying his best to contain his rage.

"I don't know. I needed a job, and they told me to come here." Aella's answer was not quite what Fritz was looking for. His fat piggy cheeks scrunched up, nearly hiding his beady black eyes. "Some of the men said that I could sweep the ashes or something."

"If I needed someone to sweep the ashes, I would get a cur to do it instead of your unskilled little hands." He chuckled to himself. "Then again, they do call you Roughskin." He patted her head. "Fine. Grab the broom and start sweeping." As Aella stood, he added, "Good Girl. That's my little Roughy." He laughed to himself, a deep booming giggle. Aella scowled, grabbing the broom. She moved it back and forth across the floor, raising a cloud of dust.

"That's not how you do it!" Fritz growled, his laughter suddenly ceased. He yanked the broom out of her hands and showed her how to collect a pile of dirt and sweep it out the open door. It took Aella a few tries, but she quickly gained the hang of it. After sweeping the entire kitchen, he grabbed another maid.

"This is Flavia." A red-headed girl stood in front of her, with dark tan skin and stark blue eyes. She studied Aella critically.

"Wait, this is the new girl? I ain't working with some girl who washes less than you do." Flavia stated. She shook her finger at him. "I got problems with people who smell."

"I suppose it shall get worse, then," Fritz said without a care. "She is to sleep under the stables." Flavia gasped.

"What? That ain't fit for human habitation. I may hate her already, but I also pity her, and I don't do pity." Fritz just turned away from and started swiping at another chief for adding too much garlic to a dish. Flavia sighed and grabbed Aella's wrist. "The stables out this way. Straight ahead. There is this little compartment underneath, and they sometimes fit a person down there when they run outta room for us decent folk."

"I'm hungry. When is dinner?" Aella asked, attempting to keep up with Flavia's quick pace.

"You work for your meal, and you ain't enough to cover rent." Flavia paused at a large barn, and she ambled over to the back. A small set of earthen stairs led to a tiny door, barely large enough for her to squeeze. "You will sleep here. Good night Roughskin." She stalked off, flipping her hair as she left. Aella took a deep breath and tried the tiny door. She ducked her head and entered the dark room. The only light came from the cracks in the wall. She had a feeling that once it was all dark, it would be pitch black here.

Aella curled up into a ball, and exhaustion claimed her.

* * *

Author's Note: A little trivia. Who knows how many names I've made up for this story? I hope you liked this one. No reviewsno update. 

**Rose Black:** Ah, let's just drop it, why don't we. And I have big plans for Aella's character, if I set it up right.

**Glitterpoison:** Sorry, but that's the biggest part the tree plays.

**Karolyn: **I'm glad you like the story so much. Thanks for the review!

**ChantalCalyenna:** That's pretty much what I am trying to do. I want it to be more realistic than most fairy tales and other fanfics on this site. Give it some variety. 

Thanks for everyone that reviewed!


	6. Intrusion

**Chapter Five: Learning to Work**

"Now you keep stirring to keep it from burning," Flavia demonstrated, leaning over a vat of blood red sauce. She churned it with a large wooden spoon, stopping for a few seconds to wipe the sweat of her brow. She handed it to Aella, and the runaway princess cautiously turned it about. "Pause every few seconds. You want it to cook some too. Just keep your eye on it. Understand?" Aella nodded, biting her lower lip. Flavia hurried away, quickly busying herself with another task.

The steam rose off the sauce, making Aella sweat under the heat. She stirred the thick gloop slowly, letting it's deep aroma force her mouth to water. It was a pity that such fine food would be passed over a royal blood such as she to some petty Lordling, whose pedigree was not nearly was refined as hers. Still, she had to remind herself that she was no longer a princess. Instead, she was a princess in disguise.

Stirring sauces was not a difficult task for even her; what she loathed was the dish washing after the meal. Since she was only in the process of learning how to cook, and none of her meals could afforded to be served to the King, she was stuck with the back breaking chore of scubbing the pots and fragile glass and silver plates. It left her hands raw and red, and the dirty dishwater stained her clothing. If no one was around, she would sometimes slip off her precious mantle.

Two weeks she had been here, and already, she was tired of living the life of a servant. She would gladly return to her father and marry him, if it were not for her pride. She was stubborn and would remain so until she rested in her grave.

She closed her eyes and listened to her stomach rumble. How much longer would the preparation of the evening continue? She idly began stirring again.

"That's enough!" Fritz snapped, slapping her hand away from the spoon. He chased her away, turning her once again under Flavia's careful eye. The woman just forced Aella to begin on the mountain of pans. She watched, leaning casually against the wall. She was silently taunting Aella, and that spoke louder than words.

"Go away," Aella growled, a terrible unladylike sound.

"No," Flavia retorted. "And there ain't nothing you can do to get rid of me."

"Oh yeah," An idea popped into Aella's head. She grasped the pan by it's soapy handles and prepared to throw it on Flavia. Instead, her wet hands slipped on the handles and it spilled all over her mantle, completely soaking her. Flavia laughed, loudly and vivaciously.

"Yeah. I think I'll stay just to see more of that," She sneered. Aella felt hot tears burn her eyes, but she pushed them back, determined not to cry in front of this woman. What had she gotten herself into? When she had run away, she hadn't imagined it would be like this. She finished the pans in cold silence, always aware of Flavia's eyes on her back. When she had finished, it was dark outside. Flavia yawned.

"Well, we've had an amusing time tonight," She slapped her on the back. "See you tomorrow." Then she laughed. Aella ran back to her room under the stables as fast as she could. She stumbled through the darkness, tripping over odds and ends, the sharp odor of horse feces stinging her nose. She finally just collasped on the ground, tired and hungry and alone. She regretted her decision, dearly. But she couldn't go back now. No, she was stuck like this, and there wasn't anything that could change that.

* * *

The next day, Aella was hurrying on an errand when she bumped into the one, the only Damion. He smirked at her as she ran past and calmly stood in her way. She simply walked around him, brushing by his shoulder as she continued on her way. Damion had other plans, though; he grabbed her wrist and yanked her towards him. His rough, calloused hand felt like sandpaper on her delicate skin. 

"Now, that ain't a proper greeting," He grinned at her. She struggled to get out of his grip, but he was too strong for her. "Stop thrashing 'bout. You should take what you can get." He kissed her cheek. In reflex, she slapped him with her free hand, making him drop her arm.

"How dare you touch me with those foul lips of yours," She screeched at him, flailing her arms wildly. Damion took a step back, as if he could not believe what she had just done. He was taken aback for a mere second before reacting. This time he took squeezed both arms tightly and breathed into her face. She cringed and turned her head away from his, as his booze stained breath reached her nostrils.

"That's a mighty strong slap you got there, missy," He hissed. "But no woman touches me like that." His face crept closer to hers. "You ain't no looker. Handsome man like me ought to please just fine."

"Let go of me," She gasped as his grasp bruised her arm.

"No." This time he kissed her jaw. He did free one arm, but he used it to force her head towards him. He trailed his mouth up to hers. She writhed under the contact, trying desperately to push him away, but he was burlier than her, and it made little difference. Finally, she kicked him in his shin. He pulled away.

"You a funny little one, Roughskin," He murmured. Aella began to call for help, and her antics only made him laugh. "No one gonna help you. Ain't one of 'em that cares about you. 'Sides, you ought to respect those that are higher class than you are."

"In my opinion," A deep voice spoke from behind Damion. "There are two classes. Nobles and commoners." Aella saw Damion's eyes widen at the sound; though she could not see who it was, Damion obvivously recognized it. He dropped her, turned and fell to his knees.

"Sorry, your majesty, if I offended you," He mumbled. Aella looked up to see Xavier, standing haughily above him. Aella rose to her feet, then realized she should follow Damion's example, and clumsily kneeled down.

"Commoners," Xavier continued. "Are rude, disrespectful and believe they should get anything they want." He sighed. "Most of the members in my court are commoners. Nobility comes not only with blood but with the dignity, poise and respect that a person carries." He glared at Damion. "You, I have heard, are infamous for such acts. Really, what will raping a poor woman such as her get you?" Damion snorted.

"She can't get much better," He pointed out. "She ought to be glad that-" Xavier just waved him off with a hand.

"Begone," He snapped. "I have better things to do than lecture you when it won't pass through that thick head of yours. If I catch you in the act of harassing this young lady, how ever unfortunate she may be, I will not hesitate to kick you swiftly and painfully out of my huntsman. Really, a man of my stature cannot be near such a foul creature."

"Of course," Damion stood as the King turned his back. He spat at Aella, still kneeling on the ground as Xavier walked to the stables, where a few of his servants awaited him. Aella assumed he was going for a ride when he caught sight of the incident. She knew she ought to just let him continue on his way, and as much as that event injured her pride, she swallowed it down and did something she rarely ever did.

"You majesty," She called out. He turned and scowled at her.

"What do you want? I have a schedule to keep up," He snapped sharply. Aella faltered for a second.

"I- I'd like to say thank you," She mumbled. He rolled his eyes.

"I didn't do it for you," He said in his cold tone. "I just can't stand acts like that. My love, a lady of high repute, was raped by a fellow Lord, and when it was found that she was carrying his child, she was forced to marry that despicable fellow." He turned on his heel and left Aella fuming. She had humbled herself to actually admit her gratitude to such a low-life King, and he just turned her away.

The bell chimed, revealing it to be three o' clock, and Aella realized that she had been gone twenty minutes too long. Fritz would be bristling with fury if she did not hurry up and return with the, oh what was she suppose to retrieve again! She sighed and returned to the kitchen, an excuse forming in her mind.

* * *

Author's Note: I am so sorry this took so long. I hit massive writer's block. Please review, people! 


	7. King's Dinner

**Chapter Seven: King's Dinner  
**  
"The king is hosting a dinner in a fortnight," Fritz announced to the kitchen staff. "He shall be entertaining the rulers of all Seven Kingdoms. This is a very important day for the kingdom, as it is the first time in a hundred years that all the rulers have accepted the invitation. Therefore, we need a splendid meal, no hassles. Gena, Marian, Cassy, you must start preparations for a cake like no other you have ever made."

"Sir, we shall try," Gena, the head baker, tittered. In a nervous bustle, the three ladies scampered away, chatting amongst themselves of what pastries, cobblers, and souffles they would create.

"Flavia, you and Hadil will in be charge of the appetizers," Fritz assigned them. "Let Qasim help you; he's good with garnishes. I will take care of the main course. Everyone else, whatever position you usually serve in, you will fulfill. However, these people will be in charge instead of me. Listen to them." The crowd around Fritz began to disperse. Aella was about to walk away, when he stopped her, pointing one sausage-like finger at her.

"You will stay away from the kitchen for the next two weeks," He ordered her. "The last thing I need is you messing up everything. The king will have my head if this meal does not go well. You hear me?"

"But how will I earn my dinner?" Aella asked. In his rage, Fritz had deprived her of many meals, and she did not want to go hungry again.

"Keeping out will be plenty work enough," He growled. "Preparations begin now. So go!" Aella ran off, into the fresh air. Two whole weeks to herself. The thought made her smile. She figured she might hike into town and buy something, with the few coins she earned from her wages.

She pranced back to her compartment under the stables, where she hid her money, tied in a kerchief, under some straw. She suddenly stopped dead in her tracks as dread filled her stomach.

All the rulers of the Seven Kingdoms were coming here.

Including her father.

Who would recognize her mantle and take her home.

Aella's body froze, and her heart rate accelerated as she contemplated this. Oh, it was hopeless! She would be a goner for sure…

Then again, Raphael might be coming. Yes, he would be accompanying his father on this trip, so that he could learn from the example of the King. Raphael would save her, he loved her that much. True, she was not as pretty as she was before, but Raphael would not care. Dear, precious Raphael would save her.

But his own father would never agree to a marriage without the appropriate consent. He despised elopements; he had once stated that clearly to Aella herself. And Raphael could not risk losing the crown.

The pit in her stomach grew as Aella picked up her skirts and ran. She ran to the hills, away from the castle, where she could weep. She ran blindly, tripping over pebbles in the road and weeds in the grass. Finally, she collapsed in a trembling heap at the top of a knoll, letting her tears fall upon the ground.

Seconds, minutes, hours…time did not matter as she laid there, crying her laments. Her father would take her away, it was for sure. She ignored the fact that he would not interact with the servants; she lived under the stables! When he was gearing up for a hunt, he would catch sight of her and drag her away, kicking and screaming.

"Little Roughskin, your problems always seem to interrupt me while I am trying to enjoy a ride," A familiar, cold voice called to her. She raised her head and saw, against the blinding sunlight, that Xavier was standing over her on his horse.

"Oh, you," She mumbled with distain.

"Yes, me. The King. Have some proper respect." Instead, Aella broke out into a new sob. Xavier's permanent scowl seemed to deepen moreso, and he dismounted his horse and let the steed stretch its legs freely. Xavier crouched down to the sniveling girl. "You always do stand out, Roughskin," He commented.

"That's why…" She let the statement hang.

"Excuse me?" Xavier asked. He hesitated a moment, then placed a hand on her shoulder. If it was meant to be any form of comfort to Aella, it was lost to her. "What is wrong?"

"I'm afraid," She whimpered.

"Oh what? Damion?" Xavier asked. "He's a scoundrel, and he won't harm you. I've been meaning to find a reason to kick him out anyways. The man always annoyed me."

"No, of my father," Aella confessed. "I ran away from him, and now he is coming to find and take me home. And he will find me because I do stand out."

"Roughskin…didn't you say you had no parents?" Xavier asked.

"I lied," She admitted. "But he wanted to force me into an incestuous marriage. I had to leave. I had to run away." Xavier withdrew his hand.

"Get up," He ordered her, straightening out.

"No," Aella hiccupped. She was breathing in dirt and bugs, but she didn't care. She wanted to escape this cruel, cruel world for a while.

"I said get up," Xavier said more sternly this time. "That's an order."

"And I'm defying that order," She refuted.

"You can't defy it!" Xavier exclaimed incredulously. "I'm the king. You have to do what I say." He stared at her, mouth slightly agape. No one had even disobeyed him before.

"Well too bad," She spat. "What are you going to do? Throw me in the dungeon? Good, he won't find me there." She lifted her head weakly, a new retort in her head. "You know, you're acting like a real commoner right now." Xavier's hands involuntarily balled themselves up into fists, and he closed his mouth to clenched his teeth. She had no right to call him that.

"How dare you-" Then he paused and realized, she was right. With a sigh, he relaxed his anger and forced out the next few words. "Fine. All I'm saying is that you won't feel any better laying upon the cold ground crying about it. Take my hand, and we will sort this out." He held it out to her, cringing only slightly when her dirty palm touched his. He helped her to her feet, and for the first time, he looked her straight into the face. "You know, you really do have lovely eyes."

"Thank you," She mumbled. He had hoped the small compliment would make her feel better.

"You know, you're one of a kind, Roughskin," He told her. "What is your real name anyways? Surely, your parents did not give you that name."

"No, but I'm afraid that I must defy that order as well." He sighed.

"Will I ever get a straight answer out of you?" He asked, exasperated.

"Maybe," She shrugged, then something caught her eye behind him. She giggled slightly. He cocked his head at her inquisitively, then turned his head to try to see what she was laughing at. Nothing out of the ordinary except-

"My horse! Dammit!" He growled. The beautiful steed had run away about a mile, and something either scared it or enticed it to gallop even further from the king and former princess.

"I hope you're accustomed to walking, my liege," Aella gave a sly smile. Though her eyes were still red from the tears and her head still ached from sobbing, but she felt a little better.

"We have to catch my horse, though," Xavier pointed to the direction where the maverick had run. "I like that horse. He's obedient. And of excellent breed. His pedigree is renown-"

"You can get another," Aella rolled her eyes. "I mean, I never understood what it was with men and horses. Raph-" She stopped at the name and covered her mouth with her hand. Xavier gave her a strange look.

"Excuse me?"

"You're not the only one to have a doomed love," Aella sniffed back the oncoming tears. Xavier nodded.

"Well, we better get back to the castle," He said, changing the subject.

"Where are your servants, my king?" Aella asked. "It seems unusual that you would travel without them." They began down the small slope of the knoll side by side, however improper it would be for a king to communicate with his subject this way.

"I prefer going without them," Xavier said. "Too much of a nuisance. I prefer quietness and no hassle. Peace. Your crying broke that peace." Aella did not apologize; it was not her thing to do so. Xavier just gave her another peculiar face as they strolled together.

As they walked, they began to talk as well. Aella realized just how slow news traveled to Grosmit, and for that, she was thankful. He had not yet heard of the runaway princess. Yet still, in two weeks, her world could be shattered once more.

* * *

Author's Note: Next chappy, Aella's father will come and she will confront Raphael. But there will be surprises along the way. Review people, or I shall not update.  



	8. Disrespect

**Chapter Eight: Disrespect**

Aella spent the next two weeks picking straw out of her hair and primping herself somewhat for the arrival of Raphael. She was nervous, yes, but she should be. She ran away from the life that was now suddenly hitting her straight in the face again.

The day came with much fanfare. Aella was not allowed within three feet of the kitchen without Fritz chasing her away with a broom. The courtyards were flooded with servants cleaning, arranging bouquets, pinning banners and polishing silver. The big festival was still a night away, but all the royalty was arriving this day, so they would have a day to rest before the events.

Still, it was a big matter, and they wanted the castle to look grand for when the Kings and Queens appeared. After wandering around the vicinity of the castle, dreaming of her old life before the storm, she returned to her little home under the stables, completely bored out of her mind. There was nothing to do. In her spare time, when she was a princess, she would take leisurely walks in the garden, sew, pluck on her lute or brush her hair. Servants weren't allowed in the gardens unless they were accompanying a noble or unless they were gardeners, and she hadn't the materials for the rest of her hobbies. The best excuse she had for a brush was a tattered wooden comb with snapped, thorny teeth.

Aella signed and closed her eyes. She was used to the awful stench of horses now, and the rough pallet she slept, moved in after she began working, was hard under her back, but she no longer cared. Perhaps she would take a nap and forget all about this business. No noble would see her like this, and perhaps that was for the best. She could not bear being in dear Raphael's presence looking like some sullied old wench.

When Aella opened her eyes again, she realized she had fallen asleep. With a yawn, she stood up and decided to risk a bit of fresh air. The sudden onslaught of light made her eyes water, but she blinked it back.

She heard voices from the stable. She recognized one as Xavier's. The other…oh dear, her heart was going crazy. It was Raphael! Aella paused to catch her breath. Her mind was reeling; what should she do? What action should she take? Her legs talked for her as she strolled by the stable, just begging for one view of her love.

They were waiting for the stable boys to saddle up their horses. An impatient scowl had found it's way onto Xavier's face. Raphael, with his golden hair and bronze skin, was laughing at some joke, while the girl-

Who was that girl! She looked vaguely familiar, probably someone from Raphael's court. She was pretty, with long brown hair and exotically green eyes. Aella smirked to herself. She was just some hoochie that flirted with Raphael, unaware of his true and undying love for Aella.

"My prince, my dear," The lady drawled. "I fear I cannot join on this ride. The sun is too harsh today." She fluttered her eyelashes. Raphael smiled at her, which was like a knife in Aella's stomach.

"Of course, my love," He said, and it sounded like he meant it. Aella picked up her skirts and tried to run away, but Xavier caught sight of her.

"Ah Roughskin," He said. Aella turned and curtsied. "For once, you invaded my life at just the right moment." She tried a smile, but it did not work. "Take Lady Claire to her quarters. Her maid has disappeared on her."

"O-of course," Aella murmured, and she curtsied again, once to Xavier and then Claire. The woman laughed at the sight of her.

"What an unfortunate little duckling," She commented. Aella bit back the sharp retort she had in store. "I'm not sure if I can stand being in her presence, my love."

"Of course not, Lady Claire," Xavier said. "She was just handy. I can have her summon another maid if you wish."

"No, no, don't bother," Claire sighed. "She'll do." She examined her carefully. "If looks represented who are in the inside, then I'm sure this would be what that Princess Aella would look like."

"Ah yes, the news just reached me that she ran off," Xavier said. They seemed to forget about her standing there.

"Yes," Raphael mumbled, a bit of exasperation in his voice. "She was a pretty insufferable girl. Such vanity and conceit! She ran off because Daddy broke off any chance of marriage. Thank goodness, though. I couldn't stand being married to her."

"Good riddance to such a black soul," Claire mumbled.

"Why were you courting her, then?" Xavier questioned. Raphael rolled his eyes.

"Why else? Father thought some pretty blood would be good for the line," He snorted. "All those follies I led her on to. Now she's gone, and Claire and I are engaged." He took the girls hand in his own. Hot tears burned in Aella's eye. She fought them back, biting her lip sharply to retain them. What a fool she had been to fall for this man. To hide her reaction, she bowed her head.

"What do you think about this, little ducking?" Claire asked. It was a taunt. Aella felt like screaming back, _Roughskin, not duckling, _but she fought back the urge.

"I feel like it was good thing that she ran off," She mumbled. "For her own sake. To believe she was in love when the man was using her as a puppet to please his father; it's a terrible thing to play with a heart like that." The battle between her and her emotions was raging, and the tears were winning. Raphael stared at her in amusement.

"Excuse me? I had no choice," He defended. "I doubt a simpleton such as yourself would understand the politics involved with this."

"Love is not politics!" She screamed. She did not care if it was improper. "And I am no simpleton!"

"She is quite the insolent child," Raphael said in disgust.

"Yes, sometimes it can quite refreshing," Xavier mumbled, then in a louder voice, "But at the moment, it is quite out of line. Begone Roughskin, I'll deal with you later." Aella nodded and curtsied once more before running off. Her footsteps became clumsy, and she tripped over her own feet. Tears blinded her eyes, and they began to freely flow down her cheeks. She finally stopped at the base of the knoll where had spoken to Xavier two weeks before. Was this always to be her place of solace?

Afternoon turned into night, and the moon was high in sky when Xavier found her. She had fallen asleep by then, feet tucked her under body and arms thrown around her. He shook her awake, and she stared at him before determinately shutting her eyes.

"I inquired to all the servants for your whereabouts," He told her. "And finally something woke me up in the night and told me to come here." He stood tall above her. "I want you to stand up, now, and that is an order you are going to obey." Aella surprised him by doing just that. She stared him straight in the eyes defiantly.

"Of course, my king," She said. He slapped her. Her cheeks stinged from the assault, but she maintained the eye contact.

"What were you thinking back there? That was the worst display of disrespect I have ever seen in my life. It's inexcusable. You should be dismissed from my services for that kind of insolence!" Fire danced in his dark eyes, illuminated by the silver moonlight. Aella did not tremble. She did not look away. She would be rebellious.

"And I will go gladly," She told him. This remark only made him angrier. "And I will go without pay." She added, and she meant it. She could no longer stand working in that damn castle!

"How dare you treat me that way," He snarled. "I could have you thrown in the stocks for that."

"Could, should…why is nothing ever definite with you," Aella challenged him. "Why did you come here yourself instead of sending some brute after, huh? Why do you constantly chase after me like this?"

"Because you intrigue me," He said snidely. "Tell me, Roughskin, what is your excuse this time?" Aella shrunk back, surprised by his comment. She thanked the lord that there was no light for him to see her eyes water.

"I was once in love with a man," She heard herself speak in barely a whisper. "He led me into believing he loved me to. Then, it was a game, some stupid game," Her voice cracked. "He didn't love me. He loved someone else, but he still flirted with me, courted me. Then I found out and my heart broke. I guess what Prince Raphael said reminded me of that." She sniffed.

"Prince Raphael is an old friend of mine. He's not like that, and even if he were, you have no reason to yell at him in such a manner." Xavier scolded her. "Still, tell me more. Why did you fall in love with this man?"

"He was rich and handsome," Aella supplied. She sighed as Xavier snorted.

"Do you live in the clouds or is your head just permanently lodged up there," He said with contempt. "That was not love but lust. You were right. Politics is not love, but love is not looks. You have a lot to learn still. You still have the mentality of a child, and you know nothing about Princess Aella. I have heard she was a snob."

"You are what you are raised to be," Aella snapped at. "If you are raised to be a commoner, you will be a commoner. If you are raised to love only money and looks, taught to care only about yourself, brought up to believe anyone lower than you is worthless, then yes, you would be a snob too."

"I can't take this anymore," Xavier cried. "At first, I thought your attitude was amusing. Now it is out of control. You will control that temper of yours or I will kick you out."

"As I said before, gladly," Aella stalked past him, being sure to knock into his shoulder as he stood there. "You are an insufferable man, and I will glad to free of your company. You seem nice at times, but no, you are just a cold, emotionless man, so cruel in his judgement. Why must you always infuriate me so?" She meant for the question to hang open, but he had a remark in store anyways.

"Maybe you're cute when you're mad," He said coolly. "Maybe, it's because you need discipline." Aella ignored him on the trudge back to the stables. Tomorrow, she would leave. Tomorrow, she would leave this life behind.

* * *

Author's Note: Next chappie will be the first festival! And I promise that her father will make an appearance in that one! I did some research on this fairy tale. No results turned up "All Fur", but I did find the story under the name "Allerleirauh", which is translated into "All-Kinds-of-Fur". In some versions of Grimm's, it goes by that name, and in others, it goes by "The Princess in Disguise." Interesting, huh? Well, no reviews means no updates. Ciao! 


	9. The First Festival

**Chapter Nine: The First Festival**

She was leaving. That was that. She would never return to this vile place ever again, and nothing could stop her from going. First, though, she would have to gather her wits about her, march straight up to Head Maid, and collect her wages.

That was easier said than done. Aella had crossed paths with the Head Maid once before, and it was a less than pleasurable experience. She paced in her tiny home, soon to be lost and forgotten like her post as Princess. What to do, what to do! The Head Maid was likely to be busy, which would put her in a fouler mood if Aella interrupted duties.

Today was the festival celebrating the arrival of all the royalty. Damn event! Aella scowled and sat down upon her pallet. She would just have to stay another day. The thought made her claw at her hair in misery. How could she possibly stand living here another day!

Then, a thought slithered in her head. She reached her hand under the straw pile and felt around desperately. Finally, her hand enclosed around a familiar hard ball the size of a very large marble. Triumphantly, she held out her walnut. She pried it open and took out the first dress.

It was the gold dress. Even in her dim surroundings, it shone with an unmatched radiance. The smooth fabric under her fingers made Aella yearn for a time long past. She was tempted her run her hand all over and savor the feel, but she did not want to soil it with her nasty hands. Instead, she held it up, pinching the shoulders and being careful not to let it drag on the floor.

Yes, the dress was beautiful, but Aella was currently a mess. Her hair was in shambles, and her skin seemed stained permanently. She replaced the dress in the walnut with chary before rushing out of her room.

She entered the kitchen, dodging between the laboring cooks, and retrieved a medium-sized bowl from the cabinets. It was a plain ceramic dish, likely not be missed. She tried to escape without being seen, but Fritz caught her first.

"Roughskin! There you are," He waddled over to her. "Turns out I may have use for you. Everyone else is running all over place with not a moment spare. That leaves me with a dusty kitchen with no one to sweep it. The Kings and Queens shall not have dust particles in their evening meal! I want you to sweep it for me."

"But I wanted to see the festival," Aella complained bitterly. She formed a lie into her head. "I've never seen such a big event before, and I've heard they've allowed commoners into the lower festivities." She smiled smugly. "Besides, if I sweep now, then the dust would return anew before dinner was served, and you would still have dusty food."

"You're right," Fritz said thoughtfully. "Return in half a hour. The meal shall be ready by then, and then you can sweep the kitchen and put it in order!" Aella bounded off as Fritz called after her, "But stay away from the nobility! Knowing you, you probably won't listen. And what are you doing with that bowl?"

Behind the stables, a small creek burbled by. Aella dipped the bowl into the creek and filled it with the clear, cool water. She carried it into her compartment, where she held it by a small crack in the walls where a tiny ray of sunlight poured through. Using an old rag, she cleaned her face and hands. Often, she would have to run out and refill the bowl with a fresh supply, hiding the cleaner skin under her mantle. She wanted to make sure she looked radiant. Then, she poured it over her hair and let it soak through every strand and flush away every grain of dirt.

While her hair was still wet- she could not let it dry due to time restraints- she flipped it up into what she imagined would be a fancy updo. She then slipped on the golden dress, thanking the good Lord that it covered her tatty shoes. She peeked out the door to make sure no one saw her before dashing out and a good distance away. She noticed how hard it was to run in such a dress, and she almost loathed that fact.

When she walked past a mirror hanging from one of the booths, she did not recognize herself. Her skin, thought not nearly as smooth as it had been, was creamy and unblemished. Her hair now shone like the gilt of her dress. Her eyes, though marred by dark circles, seemed bright and clear.

Commoners skipped and strutted through the lower booths. Children played rigged games, women fussed over wooden beaded jewelry and men drank themselves merry. Aella ignored these sights as she approached the roped off section, near the Fountain of DuRoi.

At first sight, the guards immediately took her to be a King's daughter, and they let her in, no questions asked. It was still a walk to the dances, for the nobility liked to be a good distance away from the normal folk. She probably looked strange with no escort, with her hair lopsided, and she prayed that she would not need to be announced, for she would not know what to tell them. Luckily, she was able to elude them.

Xavier caught sight of her immediately. His eyes widened in amazement, and she was uncomfortable with it. Every other man's eyes were on her, yet she did not mind them so much. She suddenly wondered what she was doing here, and she froze to her spot as she realized the truth.

Aella had no idea whatsoever why she had come. Radovan would certainly recognize the dress and Xavier- he was the very man she wanted to avoid. She feigned a calm appearance as she forced one trembling leg in front of the other. A plan was swirling in her mind. She could turn this to her advantage.

"Milady," Xavier's bewitched voice came to her ears, both pleasantly and despicably. Aella curtsied out of respect, making her expression remained stoic. "Milady, would you do me the honor of claiming your next dance?" He held out his hand, and Aella took it, noticing how warm it was. A new song began, a slow, melodious waltz. Aella found herself out of practice, but her feet seemed to find their own way out of memory. They, at least, knew where they really belong: in a court rather than some dirty stables.

If Xavier noticed how rough the skin of her palms were, he made no sign of it. His eyes were transfixed in hers, and she found that slightly unnerving. She strained herself not to look away and keep the contact.

"My eyes have never seen any maiden before so beautiful as this," Aella swore she heard him say this, but he did so in such a manner, that his lips did not twitter and it came out in a whisper.

"Looks are not love," She told him, though she was trying to remain as laconic as possible. The statement surprised Xavier. He gave her a strange look as he led on in the dance.

"Excuse me?"

"I am sorry, milord. That statement was not my place to say," Aella apologized with as much apathy as she could muster. "Please forgive me."

"No, no. You are most certainly correct in that statement," He said. "I was just taken aback. It is I who should beg for forgiveness." He smiled. "Please, will you give me a name?"

"You may call me Rosalind Ece," She said, coming with the alias quickly.

"You seem very nice Rosalind," He said.

"I am exactly what you want after all," She continued. His brow furrowed in confusion. "Perfect, right? Noble, of course, in demeanor. Obedient, respectful, polite, completely and utterly boring and emotionless. But that's what you like after all."

"I most certainly like people with character," He countered.

"You don't show it," Aella snorted. "You're oogling after me, and I have no character whatsoever. Must be the looks, eh? Oh yes, but looks aren't love." She sighed with contempt. "I bet you don't even know what you like. You complain about "commoner" nobles and cold ladies yet you resent anyone who talks back to you. You are a man of contradictions."

"I do know what I like!"

"Enlighten me."

"I have only just met you. How would you any of that to back your false statements?" Xavier had her now. The music ended, and he released her hands. Now would be the time for the perfect getaway.

"Because I do," She said. "I shall leave you now. Just think about once what you truly want and like. You might be tolerable if you're actually happy, as scary as that might seem." She stalked off, chin up proudly. She had isolated herself when Radovan stepped out of the shadows, wine bottle in hand.

"Ae- hic-Aella?" He choked out. It was slurred by the heavy alcohol.

"No, you fool. I'm a figment of your drunken imagination. Begone." Without another word, Aella fled. She marveled at her own courage and wit. She liked this dangerous, sneaky exploit. More freedom and power than she ever had before. And it felt good to talk back to Xavier like that.

Aella smiled to herself and began humming a merry tune.

---

Aella breezed through her chores. She returned her dress and dusted herself back into her grimy state before returning to the kitchens. Fritz remarked at her sudden enthusiasm, and Flavia actually acknowledged her as more than her afternoon amusement. She nearly danced back to her stable room, forgetting completely about leaving.

He was waiting there for her. Not directly at the door, but she saw Xavier standing by the stable, and it was clear he was waiting for her. She curtsied to him stiffly, but he cut her off.

"I know what I want, and I want you to stay," His voice rang true. "Someone told me to search for something I like, and your remarks are often refreshing, amusing even if they improper. As long as you keep them for when we are alone and do not sharpen your tongue among my guests, you can stay. In fact, I implore you to stay. Life has been quite interesting since you appeared." Aella nodded, and she nearly stopped breathing. This had not been her intent, but it looked like she would have to live with it.

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Author's Note: Thank you everyone for the support. Remember, no reviews means no updates. But I have such wonderful reviewers, that I doubt that will be a problem. Till next time...  



	10. Life Gets Better

**Chapter Ten: Life Gets Better  
**

Dacre hung back in the doorway and watched his brother with an amused grin twitching on his lips. Xavier, for the moment, was not aware of his presence, for he believed his personal chambers would be empty at this time of night. After he was clothed his in nightshirt, the servants usually departed, but it was forgotten that Dacre was fond of sneaking in the room late at night, a custom since they were young boys.

"Where were you this last hour?" He questioned just as Xavier was slipping under his quilt. The king jumped before turning and sending a scolding glare towards Dacre, who laughed. "Let me guess, you were chasing after a certain golden-haired mystery dancer?"

"As always, you are wrong," Xavier corrected him. "Though that mystery dancer certainly helped me realize that I did a great wrong to someone, and I hastened to apologize." Dacre gave a low whistle.

"You were quite enamored with her though," Dacre commented slyly. "Quite a catch, I would say. Admit it, you're in love with her." Xavier didn't respond; so, Dacre pressed harder. "Well then, what great wrong did her baby blues make you realize?"

"That I'm a hypocrite."

"Posh, everyone knows that." He waltzed over to his older sibling and slung an arm around his shoulders. He was even taller than Xavier, and his lips lowered to speak in his ear. "You're in love. Admit it already." The words slurred just ever so slightly.

"The wine has gone to your head," Xavier said, pushing off the red-faced Dacre.

"And the girl's gone to your heart," He cried out. "Methinks you are a lovesick fool." Apparently, the alcohol did nothing to cure the repetitiveness of the conversation. A metal flask was slipped out of Dacre's pocket, and he lifted it to his lips in a triumphant swig. "There are rumors, you know."

"Of what, pray tell."

"The Nobles from Wailon were making a mighty fury over her," He revealed. "They were gossiping amongst themselves about her resemblance to Princess Aella. Then they started mumbling about how her posture was too crooked to be the real thing. But you know those Wailons, can't handle their drink too well." It was ironic, as his own voice was becoming increasingly gargled.

"She gave me a name, Rosalind Ece," Xavier told him. "Do you know of any Lord Ece's in these parts?" Dacre shook his head. "Check up on it with the principality of some of the other lands. Perhaps, she is foreign." Xavier aided the slumping Dacre to the door before pushing him out.

A foreigner. An enigma. The idea of this Rosalind girl only enticed him further. Though he certainly wouldn't call it love. Not yet anyways.

* * *

"Do you think his parents christened him Fritz because of the little skip he has in his walk when he's happy?"

"Huh?" Flavia looked up at Aella with slight confusion. The question had come out of the blue while the two were battling double dish duty from the previous night's festivities. Aella was watching Fritz with a strange glint in her eye while she absentmindedly dried a glass.

"I mean, the very name Fritz makes you think of that," She commented. "Like Spritzy Fritzy or something like that."

"Girl, what you just said made no sense," Flavia said, setting down her current plate. She picked up a sliver platter and sneered at it disdainfully. "But I like where you going with this. HEY SPRITZY-FRITZY!" Fritz leapt up, and his head swung around wildly for the source of the voice. His beady eyes narrowed when they landed on Flavia, who had the platter hanging from her hands. "I ain't no chambermaid. You can't make me polish silver like some chamber maid."

"Like hell I can," Fritz growled. He turned away to face Gena with a smirk.

"Spritzy-Fritzy, can you tell whether or not I should use the rose molds for the frosting on the cake tonight, or should I make it a littler_ ritzier_?" A few giggles broke out along the cooks. Fritz bristled but made no other sound.

"You know girl, I'm starting to like you, now that you ain't like some snobby brat," Flavia said with a chuckle. She spat on a rag and wiped the silver dish with it, garnering a laugh from Aella. "You know, I was thinking, and you ain't never told us your name." Aella gulped and turned away to reach for another bowl. She pushed under it under the suds and scrubbed the insides with a few bristles.

"I don't have a name any more," She spoke quietly. "It disappeared the day I ran away. My true name is what you already know me as, Roughskin." She felt Flavia's eyes burn her skin as she tried to decipher it. It was suspicious, yes, but she was telling the truth. If name made the person, then Princess Aella was gone forever and only Roughskin remained. That was not to say she still wouldn't call herself Aella; habits were like steel, molded over time and difficult to break. Yet, she was now at peace with the fact that her old life was truly over.

"Why'd you run away?" Flavia asked. Aella sighed.

"Father loved me, perhaps a little too much," She murmured. "Wanted to force me into a morally wrong marriage between him and myself. My mother was long gone at this point, and no one would dare stop him. I was in love with another man and stubborn. So I ran. I'm not pretty-" Not anymore, she reminded herself. "-so you must think it to be a wonder that any man would want to marry me."

"It ain't just the looks," Flavia said, a brute reminder of Aella's attitude. "But I s'pose that don't matter no more." Aella blushed. Finally, she had a friend.

* * *

"Rosalind Ece?" Aella pretended to mull over the name Xavier gave her. "And you're in love with her? Don't you consider it a bit soon in your relationship to be sending her a proposal?" Xavier scowled. Earlier that day, he had asked Aella to join him in a reclusive corner of the garden. He had confided in Aella that it was his favorite spot, in such a remote portion that the gardeners no longer paid it heed. Weeds had choked all the flowers to death and the foliage of the trees grew wild and darkened the unkempt path. There was a solitary bench leaning against the garden wall, which was about six feet tall. Xavier sat on the seat with his back up against the brick, leaving Aella to sit crossed-legged on the ground.

"I didn't say that I was in love, just that she intrigued me," He defended himself. "I'm not even sure if that's her real name. None of the other Lords, even my guests, know of her. There were rumors of her being Princess Aella, but she had bad posture or something." Aella shared a secretive smile with herself. All this time of slouching over pans and sleeping on straw really had affected her.

"I've been hearing a lot about this Aella girl," She said. "Damn stupid, it sounds."

"Apparently, she quite famous for her beauty, though like any girl with money and looks, she was quite vain," He said. "But I never met her myself." In the distance, she heard the bells ring five times, signaling it to be five o' clock. Aella stood and stretched.

"Unless you should be so kind as to dismiss me of my evening duties, I am afraid that I must leave you, my King," Aella said humbly, though with a bit of hope in her voice. Xavier gave a small chortle.

"No, I suppose they need you in the…you work in the Kitchen, correct?" Aella nodded. "Hm, what part of it do you actually cook?" He said it with a bit of interest.

"Well, nothing yet," She informed him. "I mainly just stand there and let Master Spritz- I mean Fritz yell at me so that the other cooks can concentrate. Then I clean up afterwards. All I really know how to cook is soup at the present moment." She looked at him curiously. "Pray tell, majesty, but you've been awfully kind to me today. Not a word about how common I am and noble you are or a sentence chiding me on my behavior."

"All I have done to you on this day is ask for your opinion, and if I ask it, I cannot scold you for it," He said nonchalantly. "But in the future, should a brash comment leave your lips unwarranted, consider yourself warned."

"And warned I am," Aella said. "Now, if you'll excuse me." She curtsied as he waved her off with a hand. She fled down the path, dodging tree roots and potholes. Soon, she was in the pale light of the flower garden. She began to hum a little tune she had learned in the kitchen.

A strong hand suddenly took a hold of her shoulder. She stopped and craned her head to see who it was behind her, but it was to no avail. Instead, she felt hot breath on her cheek as a raspy voice whispered in her ear,

"Pray tell, where'd you get this fine mantle?" Her assaulter released her and kicked her to the ground. Aella looked up and gasped.

It was Radovan.

* * *

Author's Note: Update at last! Review please! The next chapter will be up sooner, promise. 


	11. Excuses, Excuses

**Chapter Eleven: Excuses, Excuses**

Radovan's wretched sneer tore through Aella's body. Every cell of her being froze in terror. He recognized the mantle? Of course he recognized the mantle! He was the one to commission its tailoring. Aella needed an escape, and she needed it fast. Before she could even think though her actions, she spoke.

"This ol' thang?" She was surprised by the caliber of her acting. The accent she pulled off had a distinct peasant twang to it. "Aw shucks, you like it?" Gently, so that she would not warrant another kick from her father, Aella stood. Radovan looked completely bemused by her answer.

"Where'd you get it?" he repeated himself. Aella did not respond right away. She took a moment to brush off the dirt hanging onto the fur before straightening it on her lanky figure. During this, she scoped out a viable excuse.

"Found it on a stiff one night," she said. "Purty gal. At least it looked that way. She was kinda rottin' and smellin' funny." Radovan's nose crinkled, and he backed up from Aella.

"You mean…she was dead?" he asked. For a second, Aella thought she heard a note of true bereavement in his voice, but she dismissed it and nodded. "Well, as that mantle belonged to my daughter, I will now relieve it of you." He took a step towards Aella, but as he did so, his face screwed in more disgust. Another step and he looked away so that he would not have to face the peasant fiend he was about to touch. Aella stared at him innocently this whole time, mentally smiling to herself in amusement.

"You know what," he snarled at her, slinking back. "You keep it." And he disappeared down the walk. Aella smirked to herself, then stole a glance around to see if anyone had overheard their conversation. Someone might put two and two together-mysterious Roughskin with the Princess' mantle- but there was no one in sight.

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Aella was still shaking from her encounter with Radovan hours later as she swept the kitchen after the nightly meal. Flavia noted this, and Aella pushed it off with a shrug.

"I suppose I'm just struck by the glamour of it all," she spoke, referring to the glitzy nobility. "Never seen such a thing before." Of course, in reality, she had experienced many fancier events, with ostentatious balls, grandiose fashions paraded with every step, and the general pretentious showing-off contest.

While she had slipped through the meeting with Radovan with ease, in reality, it left her anxious and trembling. She made a note to herself never to cross the paths frequented by the nobles and to avoid any unnecessary attention from anyone- especially Xavier.

Aella couldn't sleep that night. Not an ounce of torpor weighed her down. In fact, her legs ached to move. Resolving that no one would be out that late at night, she slipped out for a walk, sans the mantle. Instead, she strolled in her overly-large white nightgown. Her bare feet enjoyed the caress of the grass as she took each step, and the gentle coolness of night left her refreshed.

She took a seat by the stream, staring into the tiny ripples the lethargic current carried past her. Her eyelids drooped, and she fought to stay awake, at least long enough to return to the stables. Her limbs, on the other hand, were perfectly content resting on the grassy banks. Her body had to scream at them to move. Sluggishly, she went for her home.

"Alas, it is a ghost!" a voice cried behind her. Fully awake now, Aella spun around, throwing her hands over her lips to stifle a shriek. A man stood there. At first, Aella believed it to be Xavier, and a sharp retort burned her lips. However, his voice was different, and as he took a step closer, Aella noticed that while his features were similar to Xavier's, he was taller and less aloof in his expression.

"Um, hello," Aella whispered. The man was only in his night clothes and she in hers. A small warmth spread over her cheeks as she realized it was the inappropriate of situations. An alarm rang in her brain; would he try to rape her as Damion had?

"I truly thought I saw a ghost," he said, speaking as though he were reciting a poem. "But it is a girl. And a pretty lass at that!" Aella snorted.

"I have a reputation for being quite the opposite," she told him.

"What? A girl or pretty?"

"Pretty?"

"Oh, because it would be quite a sight to see you try to disguise yourself as a boy." Aella couldn't help but grin. While she was sure the darkness masked her features so that he could not see the grime caking her face, there was a certain charm to his words. "So, my specter beauty, pray tell what you are doing on castle grounds alone so late at night? A lady from afar perhaps? A dazzling princess of an exotic land?" Aella schooled her expression so that it would not betray her to the last statement.

"I am a servant actually, simply taking a walk," she told him. "And excuse me for being impertinent, but who are you?" He laughed.

"It is quite dark, I suppose, and in the darkness, there is mystery," he said. "And I will leave you with a bit of mystery tonight. Sadly, I must leave you, my maiden. The lad in me is disappointed that you are not a ghost or demon woman, but the man in me is most certainly happy that I stumbled upon you." He ventured closer and took Aella's hand in his own, pressing his lips against her knuckles. The warmth razed her entire face.

"Good night," she murmured as he slipped into the shadows.

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There was nothing like a splotch of yellowish-red mystery casserole stuck on the rim of the finest plates that could raise Aella's temper as it did. Little particles of dinner flaked away, one fleck at a time. She had tried the brush on it, the rag on it, her own fingers on it, but there was simply nothing that would speed up the process without damaging the plate.

"I hate dishes," Flavia moaned next to her. "And with all this extra noble-crap, we got ourselves a whole lot more of it." She dipped her own bowl under the suds. "I can't wait for them damn Kings to ride off on them pompous steeds and get the hell way from our kingdom."

"I know," Aella affirmed with a grunt. Her hands submerged in the water, and she sighed. "It's gone cold again. Marian, I hate to be a bother, but is the next kettle boiling yet?" Marian peeked over as she put away the baker's tools.

"Give it another sec. You might as well dump the water you have now." With matching sighs, Flavia and Aella tugged at the handles of the basin of dirty dishwater. They lifted it to the door, letting the door pour out over the stoop. The water splattered across the top step, pooling in the dirt.

"So, did y'all hear about the mysterious girl at the festival?" Marian asked as they returned. She picked up the kettle and refilled the wooden tub.

"Course. Hear the King fancies her," said Flavia. The rising steam met with her forehead, dampening it like a layer of perspiration, and she wiped it away with her arm. "If I had a penny-pence for every girl the King supposedly fancies, I wouldn't be working no more."

So, the rumors of Rosalind had finally trickled down to the servants. Aella smirked. But Cassy and Qasim were still incredulous.

"The King likes some girl?" Cassy said, shaking her head.

"I know, the wonders of it all!" Aella said, dramatically imitating Cassy's voice. "And here I was thinking he was sweet on a Lord." Marian gasped, then broke out into a fit of giggles at the statement, and Flavia's arms bounced on her hips.

"Oooh, girl, you better watch where say that, 'fore one of the higher ups hears," said Flavia, though approval and even amusement marked her voice. "You could get in a lot of trouble."

"As if she hasn't raised the roost's roof and freed all the chicken's already," said Marian. From her time in the kitchen, Aella learned that the woman was prone to using such rural sayings. "Honey, I'm beginning to like that mouth of yours." Aella could not help but beam at the compliment. A bubbly warmth rose up in her.

The casserole flecks no longer seemed to bother her that night.

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Dacre's face held that dreamy look, one Xavier always knew to beware of. Dacre had been waiting in Xavier's apartments for him to arrive. Upon entering the room, Xavier saw his brother draped across the window seat, his focus drifting out of the window.

Xavier cleared his throat, and when that did not catch his brother's attention, he said, "why, don't tell me you lost the last bit of your sensibilities." Dacre jumped and turned to look at Xavier. He grinned sleepily, standing and stretching.

"A dreamer's lost in a dreamer's world," he said. One hand ran through his hair.

"A dreamer? You mean a fool."

"If that is what you brand me, so be it. I was just imagining the world beyond our little estate." Sometimes, when just the right mood hit Dacre, he referred to Grosmit as their "estate". "Grosmit is a boring corner of the world, a nook, a cranny if anything."

"You've traveled outside of Grosmit before." Xavier took a seat on the bed and folded his hands in his lap.

"Yes, but I've never really seen the rest of the world. I figure there's something beyond this humdrum life." Xavier snorted. Few would refer to the life of a Prince as humdrum. Dacre tapped his fingers against the window before looking back at Xavier. "So, any word of this Rosalind?" Xavier shook his head. "What of Lord Ece?" Another shake. "Do you have a ring yet?"

"Dacre," said Xavier in a warning tone, "let's change the subject."

Dacre shrugged and returned to his countryside view. "Did I tell you that I met a ghost last night?"

"Were you drunk?"

"Please, you don't give me enough credit. I'm usually sober; forgive if I indulge myself when the occasion calls for it. You know, maybe you'd loosen up a bit if you tried it." Xavier ignored that statement, staring intently at his brother, waiting for him to continue. "Well, she wasn't really a ghost, though I like the concept of it. A ghost lady, so ethereal."

"I'm guessing she was pretty."

"Yes, and modest too. Clothed in all white, awash in the moonlight." He traced one finger up the pane until it reached the silver orb.

"A visiting lady."

"She claimed to be a servant, though I'm not sure how such refined looks make their way onto the handle of a broom. Ah, my ghoulish maiden." Dacre stood. "I shall dismiss myself. Dreams are awaiting, dreams of ghost ladies."

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Thank Nixiesocean for getting me to go back to this story. I had kind of forgotten about it, then wrote most of the chapter, forgot about it again, then got interested in it again. I know I promised this chapter to come even faster, and look how that turned out, so no promises this time, but I am interested in continuing this story. Reviews are loved!


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